Monsters are a basic component of the human psyche. We speculate about their
creation, their mysteries, we feel them breathing upon our necks, hiding beneath
our beds and, ultimately, to a great extent, we design them specifically in
tune with our deepest fears. No monster is quite the integral part of ourselves
as those which transform--and have the dual aspect--of humanity.

Consider the werewolf, Mr. Hyde, and the vampire. For centuries
now, mankind has been delighted with the tale of the vampire, revealing him
as not only an undeniable part of our own Dark Sides, but making him a legacy
of folklore and folk literature since the Dark Ages. And no vampire's myth
has been preserved quite so well, or has been so popular, as that of Dracula.

There have been scores of different representations of the famous
Count in literature, plays, and film but, in this particular flick, the author's
name is also curiously invoked in the title: not just Dracula, mind you, but
Bram Stoker's Dracula. The film is directed by Francis Ford Coppola--and
it may as well have been tattooed on the celluloid. Sure, Coppola is, or was,
one of Hollywood's most powerful and influential directors but, through the
years (and after some expensive bombs), it is all too clear that he still
suffers from his peculiar delusions of grandeur. Instead of Bram Stoker's
Dracula, this release should be re-named Francis Ford Coppola's
Dracula. Poor Bram shouldn't have to take the blame for this overblown
sop.

Coppola makes sure his film has respectable star power, featuring
Keanu Reaves, Winona Ryder, Sir Anthony Hopkins, and Gary Oldman in the title
role--but here lies my first complaint: the casting. Whoever picked these
actors and actresses for the roles in this film must have been on crack. Gary
Oldman may be a very competent character actor (and a wonderful Sid Vicious)
in the title role, but a dashing Transylvanian Count he ain't. And okay, so
I do have a distaste for Winona Ryder as an actress (except for her role in
Heathers) but, to be fair, she does an adequate job dually playing
Drac's original sweetheart, Elisabeta, and her modern incarnation, Mina. Keanu
Reeves looks sedated as Mina's tortured fiancé, Jonathan, but that's
hardly anything new. Hey, I try to be fair. I loved Keanu in My Own Private
Idaho, but a brave hero out to wrestle the very forces of evil for the
woman he loves? Not! The only bright spot in this film is the indomitable
Anthony Hopkins, as Dr. Van Helsing. Even when Hopkins has acted in the occasional
dud movie (the hideous Hannibal comes to mind. Blech!), he never ceases
to be compelling. Without him, this Drac would be best off nailed in the coffin
forever.

Actually, the first scene, with its explanation of how Dracula
came to be the monster he is, touched me the most. As a feared warrior fighting
in the Holy Wars, his humanity seems plausible. Scenes of people on stakes
like shish-ka-bobs surrounding the battlefields show that the gore and ugliness
of the Dark Age wars was only a part of Dracula's (Oldman) struggle and life
as a warrior. He fights as the "defender of Christ", so when his beloved wife,
Elisabeta (Ryder), commits suicide in his absence due to a dirty trick by
Dracula's enemies--who have told Elisabeta that her husband was slain in battle--he
is enraged and mad with grief. Coppola gives us a plausible presentation of
a Dracula as once a loving, religious human being until, through the loss
of his beloved, he is experiences the ultimate crisis between man and God.
Is there any rage deeper than that rising from the sense of God's betrayal?
In a fit of madness, the Count crushes and curses all his idols and crosses
at the castle, declaring himself damned for eternity, and vows to avenge himself
against his betrayal by Christ. As he does so, blood spurts from one of his
stone crosses like a park fountain (a la Kubrick in his The Shining),
the Count drinking the blood in his rage to seal his promise of revenge. Anyone
who has ever felt betrayed by God or by death itself cannot help to be a little
moved by the tormenting unfairness of it all.

Alas, when we see the Count again, it is the 19th century, meeting
Jonathan Harker (Reaves) at his Transylvanian castle. At this point in the
film, all remnants of humanity--and realism--are blown to bits. Coppola shoves
at us the archetypal haunted castle at the top of a cliff in the Carpathians,
complete with howling wolves ( his "children of the Night"), and steel-barred
drawbridge. When an aged Dracula greets Jonathan at the door, we wince as
he utters the ultimate Dracula cliché: "Velcome to my...home." We know
that "I vant to drink your blood" can't be far behind. The appearance of Count
Vlad has changed as well. Musty-old and pasty white, he has claws for fingernails,
is dressed in a flowing brocade robe (which we know must reek of centuries-old
moth balls), and the absolute worst 'do of any vampire, ever! Forget
about the slicked-back hair of Bela Lugosi, even. Oldman's Count Drac has
these funny, sweeping white wings pulled back from his face, as though he's
planted some of those women's banana clips on the sides, and a long Pocahontas
pigtail in back. This video should be subtitled, "Hair Extension Horrors."
If anyone should be waiting to plant a stake in his heart, it should be a
cosmetologist! Okay, enough about the hair. I laugh every time I think about
it, though.

Reaves plays Jonathan as a hopeless dope who never questions
why he happens to be in a haunted castle with a monster at all. It takes his
finding a bed full of succubi calling his name to convince him that all is
not right at the castle. Dracula leaves Jonathan a prisoner there among the
succubi, while the vampire sails to London packed in mouldering Transylvanian
soil to find Jonathan's fiancee, Mina: the reincarnation of the Count's wife,
Elisabeta.

When pursuing his lost love, Dracula seems less like a monster
and much more human. What could be more human than seeking love and devotion?
At this point, the fabled conflict becomes Monster vs. Man, because many obstacles--including
his own unnatural existence--stand in the vampire's way. Back in London, when
Mina's rich and provocative friend Lucy is attacked and all signs point to
a vampire as the culprit, a posse of Lucy's male suitors forms, headed up
by Dr. Van Helsing (Hopkins), the eccentric medical expert on the Undead.
These scenes are some of the most unintentionally hilarious. For instance,
when Lucy is initially attacked, it is by something that looks like a weremonkey,
that gets down and kinky with Lucy on a park bench. After Lucy is put in her
crypt, a young doctor (part of the posse) spies Van Helsing toting his medical
bag, and asks, incredulously, "Autopsy?" "No, I'm just going to put a stake
through her heart and cut off her head," Van Helsing answers nonchalantly.

It is Van Helsing's robust eccentricity and sense of absolute
control that allows him to steal every scene. Nothing phases this character.
Even after he puts an end to Lucy--who sinks to The Exorcist's level
by vomiting blood in Hopkins' face while he shouts prayers and shoves a crucifix
in her face before impaling her--he has absolutely no problem enjoying a vast
supper of rare roast beef in the very next frame, while everyone else watches
queasily.

It is Dracula's task to find Mina and get her to recognize and
to love him before he can be destroyed, and one of the segments in the film
where the monster becomes human, and is accessible to our emotions. He appears
to Mina in London as a gracious Prince decked out sprucely and, eventually,
she loses her soul to him. Even though trying to convince herself that she
is marrying Jonathan and loves him alone, deep in Mina's heart she realizes
she loves Dracula, and wishes more than anything to find him again. I have
to wonder here, though, if Dracula can appear so sprightly and well turned
out, why would he choose otherwise to present himself as a shriveled up Pocahontas
wearing banana clips--or as a weremonkey, or hideous bat, or glow in the dark
green mist, etc.? I suppose even the Eternal can't be expected to be stylin'
all the time.

When eventually our vampire is discovered by Van Helsing and
his crucifix slinging posse - man hunting monster that is at heart a man -
we can really sympathize with Dracula. He has found his last chance at love
and Mina, at last, realizes that she desires him over everything worldly.
Both Dracula and Mina are torn between their desires--which both know to be
ultimately wrong--and ending the gruesome legacy of vampirism which has fueled
Dracula's vengeance against God. It is up to Mina to choose which it will
be--to become the Undead bride of Dracula or his ultimate destroyer. It is
man (or Monster) against himself in the struggle to make an impossible choice.

There are some noteworthy things about Bram Stoker's Dracula:
Although the main characters are terribly miscast with the exception of Anthony
Hopkins, both Oldman and Ryder do put forth an effort. The young men who play
Lucy's man-friends-cum-vampire slayers perform their parts much better, but
alas, they are not even recognized by name in the credits. On the second viewing
of the film, I found a pleasant surprise when, among the credits, I saw that
blues musician Tom Waits is featured as the late lunatic/real estate salesman,
Mr. Renfield.

If nothing else, this could possibly be the most visually opulent
version of the familiar vampire tales, thanks to the "arty" but heavy hand
of Coppola. It is also perhaps one of the most sympathetic to Dracula's human
core. The costuming, makeup, and to a certain extent, the sets, of Bram
Stoker's Dracula, are above average and well coordinated. There seems
to be a real effort to make this the definitive Dracula movie. God
knows--and only He could count--the hundreds of films created through the
years retelling the Count's legend, which has to be arguably the most popular
vampire tale of all time. Ultimately, however, Coppola's version of the legend
is annoyingly overblown, miscast, and downright farcical at times. Still,
at the end of the film, Dracula's very human dilemma as he strives to hold
onto his lost love and make his peace with God, is what hits the heart of
viewers and reminds them that they are not just watching another monster flick.

In spite of the downfalls of Francis Ford--er, excuse me--Bram
Stoker's Dracula--it does contribute a much-needed extra
dimension--the humanity in the monster, and vice-versa--to a story which has
been told and retold without much reason for us to care for him at all.